If it had beauty, it was beauty that appalled.

So riveted was my gaze that I could hardly turn it across the river, where Emmett proudly pointed out his lonely home--an oasis set down amidst beetling red cliffs.

How grateful to the eye was the green of alfalfa and cottonwood! Going round the bluff trail, the wheels had only a foot of room to spare; and the sheer descent into the red, turbid, congested river was terrifying.
I saw the constricted rapids, where the Colorado took its plunge into the box-like head of the Grand Canyon of Arizona; and the deep, reverberating boom of the river, at flood height, was a fearful thing to hear.

I could not repress a shudder at the thought of crossing above that rapid.
The bronze walls widened as we proceeded, and we got down presently to a level, where a long wire cable stretched across the river.

Under the cable ran a rope.